


Every time we talk

by Vanimelda4



Series: Teenlock short stories [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Phone Call, Secret Relationship, Teenlock, a small bit of angst, but also fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-10 08:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17422847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanimelda4/pseuds/Vanimelda4
Summary: Part of my Teenlock series. All entries can be read separately.This one takes place quite a ways forward in time.John has gone off to military training. They try to call as often as they can. Long distance relationships are hard.Especially if you're Sherlock Holmes.





	1. Chapter 1

“I just miss you John.....I wish....I wish you'd come back home.  
Back to me.  
And never leave again.”

Sherlock is talking, but there's no one on the other end of the line.  
He knows there's no one there.  
He can hear the steady monotone beeping to indicate the line has disconnected through the telephone pressed against his ear.  
He keeps on talking anyway.  
He does this sometimes.  
A lot of the time.  
Almost every time.

It's been hard to get in touch with John ever since he has started his military training.  
Sherlock doesn't get to see him on a daily basis anymore like he used to when they were still in high school.  
He doesn't get to sneak into John's bedroom window anymore when he can't sleep at night....well...that one's not quite true.....he snuck in once after John had left for his 6 month training camp.  
The room had felt unbearably empty.  
Sure, all John's things had still been there. Placed just as they always had been. But without John himself there to breathe life into them to Sherlock they had seemed like hollow corpses of their former selves.  
Empty husks.  
And as he sat there, on John's perfectly made bed, just the way John liked it, in the darkness of a Thursday night at 3 am, it had seemed as if the walls and ceiling were slowly closing in on him.  
He had found it difficult to breathe. And so he had made his retreat and he had sworn to himself never to return there again without John.

John was away on some military training camp in Germany for six months.  
Cellphones were not allowed, but there was a land line relatives and friends could call if they needed to get in touch with the recruits.  
It was not an ideal situation.  
After 8pm the line got disconnected by default and most of the time the recruits weren't even around.  
Sherlock called as often as he could.  
A lot of the time nobody answered.  
Sometimes someone answered, but it wasn't John and they had no idea where he was.  
But on very rare occasions someone answered who was able to get John on the phone or....rarer still, John himself answered. 

Today Sherlock had not been so lucky.  
Bill had answered.  
Sherlock hated Bill. 

“Ah, you're John's cousin, right?”  
Sherlock had cringed internally. John was not officially “out” yet. So instead of just being able to call and say he wanted to speak to his boyfriend he was supposed to say they were cousins.  
Sherlock hated it.  
John was his and everyone should know it.  
Especially Bill.  
Bill fancied John. That much he'd been able to gather from the few times they'd spoken and from what John had told him about Bill.  
At least there was a small silver lining to John not being out, he thought grimly, if Bill thought John was straight at least he would be less likely to make a move on him. 

So he had gripped the phone just a small bit tighter and had replied with a curt:  
“Yes.”

“Ah, sorry mate”, Bill had said. God, how Sherlock hated the sound of his voice, “he's not in. Gone off on some training mission without me. I'm not sure when they'll be back.  
Can I deliver a message for you?”

Sherlock felt like throwing up. His insides were too hot and seemingly moving around all on their own accord. He felt as if his skin was made out of fire ants.  
He felt like climbing through the telephone line and murdering Bill.  
He was jealous of Bill. He wanted to be Bill.  
How unfair was it that Bill got to spend all this time with John while he had to sit in his room all alone. 

“No. ….That's fine. I'll try again another time”, he said. 

“Ta”, Bill said. 

Sherlock didn't reply. 

A click followed by the beeping of a line disconnected as Bill hung up filled his ears. 

“I just miss you John”, he said. 

The line beeps on and Sherlock makes due by making up the other end of the conversation in his head. 

************************************************

_A couple of days later:_

Once again a steady beeping fills Sherlock's ears. No one picked up this time. After a minute the line disconnected on its own. 

“Let me tell you about my day, John”, Sherlock says and he talks for a good 10 minutes before he remembers there's actually no one on the other side. 

_A week later:_

“I'm sorry, who are you calling for?”

“John...John Watson.”

“What? George?....You're going to have to speak up. It's quite loud in here!”  
The person on the other end is practically screaming into Sherlock's ear. He doesn't recognize the voice. There's a lot of noise and shouting going on the background. He's not quite sure what it's all about but it's clear that, even if John's there, he's called at an inopportune moment and they won't get any talking done anyway. 

“Never mind”, he says and hangs up. 

The familiar beep of an opportunity lost is back in his ear and Sherlock breathes in and out slowly.  
“John”, he says, “I've been working on the most interesting experiment.”  
He ends up talking for almost an hour until his mother asks him what on earth he's doing and he begrudgingly hangs up the phone. 

_Two weeks later:_

“Hey, Sherlock!”

Sherlock almost hangs up immediately when he hears the grating sound of Bill's nasal voice but he is able to resist the urge...barely.....if John is around this will all be worth it. 

“Are you calling for your cousin again?” Bill continues. His tone oh so cheery and light. Sherlock feels like strangling him with the phone cord.  
That is....if the phone John uses even has a cord. He realizes he doesn't know. He's never bothered to ask. He'll ask John next time they talk. 

“Is he there?” he asks. 

“Ah, mate, you just missed him!”

Sherlock grits his teeth. He absolutely hates it when Bill calls him mate.  
He sighs...... Audibly.

“You sure you don't want me to pass on a message to him?” Bill asks. His tone a little less light and a little more concerned now. He's obviously picked up on Sherlock's distress. 

Sherlock hesitates for a second. 

“Tell him.....”, he says, “tell him......tell him I called.”

“Will do!”

The line goes dead and the beeping Sherlock has come to know so well returns. 

“This isn't fair, John”, he says and hangs up. 

_One day later:_

It's 4am. Sherlock knows his call won't be answered but he calls anyway.  
And sure enough: after dialing the last digit of John's phone number immediately a steady beep greets him.  
It sounds extremely loud in the still dark of the night. It sounds like his heart beating. 

“This isn't fair, John”, he says.  
“I miss you and I have no idea if you miss me too.  
The last time we spoke was over two months ago. I talk to Bill more than I talk to you.”  
He lets out a pained laugh. It sounds cold and harsh in the blackness of his bedroom. It reminds him of a wounded animal. 

“Sometimes”, he starts, but then immediately stops himself. He thinks for a minute and then continues his train of thought anyway. No one to hear him anyway, right? 

“Sometimes I feel like you've chosen the army over me”, he says. 

The words are harsh. He doesn't mean them, but at the same time he does.  
He wishes he could take them back.  
They hang like a heavy selfish thing in the blackness in front of him. Ready to fall on him and crush him at any moment. 

“I'm sorry”, he says. To no one in particular, “I know the army was the right thing for you to do.  
You've grown.  
You were so young when we met. So innocent. Such a boy still”, he smiles softly to himself in the dark and, for a second, the heavy thing in front of him seems to grow a bit lighter. 

“Look at you now”, he says as his smile widens, “I'm proud of you. But I also miss you. Terribly so. And sometimes.....when I can't sleep.....and my mind is racing......I need you to put a halt to it......but you're not here anymore.....and I'm afraid I'm losing you.....John.......I'm afraid......I'll try calling you again tomorrow.”

Suddenly there are tears on his face and the blackness around him topples over and swallows him like a blanket.

********************************

_The next day:_

“Sherlock?”

“John?! Is it really you?!”

“God....How I've missed the sound of your voice.”

“John...”

A chuckle from the other end of the line. It warms Sherlock's heart. It feels nice. It feels amazing. His chest has been cold for so long. 

“Is that all you're going to say?” John laughs. 

“It feels like forever since I've actually gotten to talk to you....I'm not sure what to say now.”  
Sherlock says. 

“I know”

“Where have you been, John?”

“Training is brutal. We hardly get time to sleep. I'm sorry. But I'm here now. We've got a couple of minutes I think.”

“I've talked to Bill at least four times since the last time we spoke.”  
He means to sound lighthearted and turn it into a joke, but the words come out all bitter and cold. He doesn't mean to, but a part of him is mad.  
Mad at John? Maybe.  
Mad at himself? Who knows.  
Mad at the situation? Most definitely.  
Mad at the universe as a whole.  
He didn't get much sleep last night. He's been worrying and over-thinking and some ugly part of him wants to make someone pay for his misery and John is the only person around. 

John sighs. He sounds tired all of a sudden.  
“Please Sherlock”, he says, “can we not do this now? We don't have much time and I....I just want to talk to you......hear your voice.....for a bit.”

Sherlock feels like the worst person in the world. 

“I'm sorry”, he says, “I just......I miss you.......and I wish you were here....constantly.”

John sighs again.  
“Sherlock”, he says, “listen to me”, and here he lowers his voice. There are probably people around and John doesn't want them to overhear their conversation. His voice goes all dark, low and gravely and it does things to Sherlock. Things he hasn't felt in months. 

“I tell you every time we talk”, it feels as if the low husky sound of John's voice is no longer in his ear but right in his brain and his chest and Sherlock closes his eyes and lets it sink in as John continues: “if I could get to you I'd walk.”

Now it's Sherlock's turn to sigh. 

John laughs again:  
“Tell me about your day.”

“Not much to tell really....same as always....what have you been up to? Must be infinitely more interesting than my life at the moment.”

“I really don't want to talk about that now, Sherlock. I'm still tired from this whole week. Our group is on some team-building program and they're making us exercise 16 hours per day for 2 weeks straight. I'm exhausted. Supposed to be good for group morale, but, between you and me, I think they're just trying to kill off the weak.”

Sherlock laughs and John laughs with him. 

“Bill's been able to see the upside of it though.”

Sherlock's laugh immediately dies in his throat. John continues oblivious of the suffocating cold that has suddenly taken a hold of Sherlock. 

“He says I've never been so muscly. He says I've practically doubled in size.”

Sherlock doesn't reply. He can't. He wishes he could fly over there. Hang Bill with his own shoe laces and whisk John away in his arms. 

“Sherlock?” John sounds worried. Sherlock does not want John to sound worried. Ever. 

“I'm fine”, he says. He doesn't sound fine. 

John is quiet for a moment, but then Sherlock can practically hear the pieces fall into place in his boyfriend's mind.  
John's voice is no longer playful nor is it low and gravely and sensual. It's stern and demanding.  
“What did you take?” He says. 

Sherlock knows there's no use in denying. They have little time as it is. Denying the facts they both know to be true will make him run the risk of ending the conversation with John angry. That's even worse than not getting to talk to John at all. 

“Just something to take the edge off”, he replies. 

The other end of the line stays quiet.

“John?”

…..

“Are you going to hang up on me?”

“No”, John sounds impossibly tired. Exhausted even. Once again Sherlock has to remind himself he can't actually fly and get to where John is. His mind is all over the place at the moment. “I'll stay on the line with you until you come down a bit.”

“Thank you”, it's all he can say to keep himself from panicking. It's not enough. Not enough to express how he feels, but for the moment it'll have to do. 

“You know....this isn't easy for me either.”

“I know.”

“I miss you every goddamn second of every goddamn day, you know that right?”

John hardly ever swears. Sherlock feels his heart tighten in his chest. For a moment he thinks someone is squeezing it with their fist. Possibly Bill. But then he remembers it's most likely the drugs he's taken that are making him see things that aren't there. He was not expecting John to answer today. He was expecting to be talking to the beep today. He realizes he finds it's almost easier to talk to the beep than it is to John.  
He almost laughs, but is able to stop himself from doing so at the last second because he knows John will interpret it the wrong way. 

“I'm a mess without you”, he says instead. 

John's voice goes all gravely and low again:  
“I wish I could make it better, I do......but.....”

“It's alright, John. You belong there. You're doing the right thing.....just sometimes.....the right thing is not the easy thing....”  
His mind is still a bit foggy. He hopes he got across what he wanted to say. 

John laughs.

Evidently he has. 

“Oh Sherlock....”

“It's alright.....we'll be alright”.

“I'm sure we will be.” John sounds so certain. His tone of voice not to be argued with. Sherlock chooses to believe him. 

“I just wish I could hold you.......and kiss you......and.....”

“Ssssssh”, John actually giggles. Sherlock stores the sound away in his mind to listen to over and over again whenever he's having a bad day. 'there's people around that might overhear. We can't talk about.....that.....”

Sherlock didn't think it would be possible, but John's voice manages to go even lower and softer: “God....all the things I want to do to you....when I get back, Sherlock....I swear....”

There is some noise from the background now. Some people shouting and for a moment John turns around and shouts something back. Sherlock can just make it out: 

“Oi! I'm on the phone! Just a couple more minutes for fucks sake!”

Evidently John is picking up a habit of swearing in the army.  
More voices can be heard from the background and although he cannot make out the words he swears one of them is Bill's. 

“I told you!”, John shouts to them once again, “it's my cousin okay?....none of your damn business.......Just go ahead alright? I'll be right there.”

The voices seem to move away and John turns his attention back to the conversation. 

“I'm sorry”, he says. He makes it seem as if he means the interruption, but Sherlock knows what he's really sorry for. 

“You need to go soon”, he says. 

John sighs and he sounds pained and utterly exhausted and.....sad.

“It was good hearing your voice”, John says, “if only for a little while.”

There is another moment of silence where neither of them speaks before John continues:  
“Will you be alright?”

“Of course.”

“Sherlock....”

“I'll be fine, John....I promise.....when will you be coming back home?”

“Two months. Mark it on your calendar. I hope you like sweaty, stinky men because first thing I'm doing when I get back is go straight to you.”

Sherlock laughs and the tension that had settled between them lifts once again. 

“It's going to be a long two months”, he says. 

“I know.......but you know what you can do?”

Sherlock dares not answer. John's voice has gone all low and gravely again in an attempt to keep the next part of their conversation as secret as possible and Sherlock does not want to miss a breath of what he has to say for all the world.

“Since we're having so much trouble with these phone calls how about you write me a letter.”

“A letter?” this is not what Sherlock was expecting. 

“That's right. A letter”, John sounds positively seductive now. Sherlock likes it, “and in that letter you can write everything you want to do to me....when I get back....in great detail....so I can read it when I'm alone......and think about you.”

“You don't get much time alone.” There is a smile on Sherlock's face. 

“I'll have to be very careful then.” He can practically hear the smile that accompanies John's words. 

“Will you write me back?”

“Always.”

Sherlock wants to say something else but the sound of shouting voices returns in the background. They grow louder and louder by the second. 

“Shit”, John says. He's definitely picked up a swearing habit. “I've got to go, Sherlock.”  
And as John's voice sinks low again he quickly ads: “I love you.”  
Before the line gets disconnected and Sherlock is left with nothing but the beep. 

“I love you too.” he says to no one in particular. In his ear the steady sound of the monotone beep goes on indefinitely.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, it's the chapter nobody needed but I wrote anyway!  
> Sherlock calls again. Bill has something to say......

“Yes, hello?”

Sherlock recognizes the voice on the other end of the line immediately.  
He has spoken to Bill so many times by now it would have been strange if he didn't.  
And even if he had spoken to him only once, Bill's voice is hard to forget. It has a pretty distinct sound. Somewhat nasal with a strange accent Sherlock can't quite seem to place. 

He is able to suppress the aggravated sigh he feels rising to the surface, but only just. There is absolutely nothing about Bill that he likes......well....there's one thing he likes. Bill might be able to get John on the phone for him. 

“Is John Watson there?” he asks, keeping his voice low on purpose, hoping Bill won't recognize his voice and address him as John's cousin again.

“No, sorry man”, the short reply and, to Sherlock's surprise, Bill actually does sound sorry this time. He usually just sounds nonchalant and as if he's only half paying attention to the conversation whenever he crushes Sherlock's hopes. 

“I'll try again some other time”, Sherlock says. He's not in the mood to listen to anymore of Bill's nasal whining if John's not there and so he's already in the process of hanging up when Bill unexpectedly continues talking:

“Wait!...Sherlock.....are you still there?....hang on for a bit....”

Damn. 

So Bill has recognized his voice after all. 

This time Sherlock does sigh. Audibly and quite theatrically. It gives him a sense of satisfaction, however small.  
He presses the phone back against his ear and waits for Bill to continue.  
For a couple of seconds there is only silence and he starts to wonder whether he has misheard or maybe Bill has hung up on him....but.....no.... there's no beep on the other end of the line. Bill is still there. Sherlock can hear him breathing if he concentrates. It is the rhythmic deep pattern of breathing of a man trying to muster up the courage to say something.....

 _oh boy_ , Sherlock thinks. 

“You're not really John's cousin.......are you?”

And there it is. 

Bill is lowering his voice just as John had done the last time they'd spoken to try and prevent the other recruits from overhearing, but, where John's raspy low voice had made Sherlock feel warm all over, the sound of Bill's nasal breathy whine makes his blood run cold. 

He doesn't know what to say.

John isn't “out” yet. At least, not to his army buddies. That's why he's calling as John's cousin. Sherlock doesn't quite know what to answer.

“I.....”, he says and promptly stops talking again. 

“It's alright”, Bill says. He's trying to sound reassuring but with every word he says Sherlock feels a panic rise within him. If only John were here to tell him what to do. He's not good with social situations.....social problems....that's what he has John for. He's lost at sea and as he opens his mouth to reply that seems to have become more fact than metaphor as water apparently flows in and he feels himself suffocating and unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“It's not like it's a secret over here....well.....John probably still thinks it is”, Bill laughs nervously and Sherlock just wishes he would stop talking. He wants to hang up. Disconnect the line. Stop this from happening. But somehow he seems to have become paralyzed as he presses the telephone so hard against his ear that it actually hurts. 

Bill just continues on. Seemingly making up for Sherlock's lack of participation in the conversation much as Sherlock had done all those times he had not been able to talk to John and was left with nothing but the beep of a line disconnected and an opportunity lost. 

“It's just the way he talks about you”, Bill says and laughs sheepishly again, “the guy's always talking about you. Christ....he talks about you more than most of the other guys around here talk about their girlfriends.”

Sherlock's heart seems to skip a beat and for a moment he is certain he's having a heart-attack but as Bill continues talking the sense of dread that had gripped him up to this point slowly makes way for a different emotion. 

“And then there's that smile he always has when he mentions you”, Bill continues, “it's rather endearing actually.....some of the guys tease him with it.....call you his “boyfriend” already.....he always goes beet-red when they do.....it'll shut him up for about ten minutes but after that he's right back to talking about you again.”

A silence follows. Bill seems to be waiting on an answer but Sherlock is still unable to form words. He is trying to process what Bill has just told him in his head. 

John talks about him? 

Endlessly it seems......

And he smiles when he does so......apparently......

Sherlock loves John's smile. He knows exactly to which smile Bill is referring. It's the one where his eyes seem to light up and a dimple forms only on the left side of his mouth. The smile will widen until John opens his mouth and it turns into an actual laugh. This is usually the point where Sherlock will lean in and press his lips to John's because the one thing better than seeing John smile is feeling John's smile against his lips when he kisses him and soon his laughter will turn into a soft moan and his arms will wrap around Sherlock and the world outside of them will cease to exist. 

He realizes he probably hasn't spoken for quite a while now when Bill asks hesitantly: 

“He's not out yet, is he?”

“No”, Sherlock answers. Finally. His own voice sounds strange to him. Strained and a bit out of breath. 

Another short silence follows before Bill continues. 

“I was jealous of you, you know.”

Sherlock is taken aback. Why would Bill be jealous of him? He's the one spending all his days with John.....not Sherlock.

“He just loves you so damn much.”

Sherlock's heart seems to stop again. 

“For the first couple of months I just kept on hoping he'd smile at me the way he smiles when he talks about you....but he never did.” Bill laughs again but there's no mirth in it,  
“you do realize how lucky you are, right?” 

Sherlock swallows. There have been so many times these last couple of months where he has felt like the unluckiest person in the world. Having his John be so far away from him. Not getting to even talk to him for weeks on end. At some times it had felt as if he was losing John. Losing him to the army. To another life. To a life where John, maybe, was happier. What did he have to offer John?  
He has no clear future plans, he has no other friends, he doesn't even know how to make friends. He's abrasive, rude and an obnoxious know-it-all.....he has a drug habit......

John knows all these things.

But.

It's becoming clear to him that it doesn't matter how he sees himself. It matters how John sees him. And from what he's hearing now, even when he's not around, he's still able to make John happy. 

His heart seems to speed up now. Perhaps trying to make up for all the heartbeats lost during this conversation. 

“Thank you”, Sherlock says. Although he doubts Bill understands the true depths of the meaning of those two words. 

Neither of them speak for a couple of moments but then it's Bill who continues again: 

“I also wanted to apologize to you.”

Sherlock hearts stops once again. He feels he might need a full day to recover once this conversation is over. 

“For what?” he asks. Unsure if he actually wants to know the answer. 

“I might have told you a couple of times that John wasn't here while he actually was.” Bill talks fast and soft. Trying to get the words out as quickly as possible. He sounds truly sorry but Sherlock cannot find it in himself to forgive him just yet.

He doesn't reply. Doesn't know how to. He realizes how one sided this conversation is turning out to be. He's probably said no more than six words during all of it. But he is once again busy turning the facts over in his mind. He can recall at least three occasions where Bill had picked up, told him John wasn't there immediately and had hung up before he could reply. 

“I know it was childish”, Bill continues and to Sherlock the sound of his voice seems to have gotten even more annoying than it already was. It feels as if literal shards of glass are protruding from the phone into his face. 

He pushes the phone closer to his ear. He needs the pain now. It might help numb out the overwhelming sadness that is trying to choke him when he thinks of all the minutes he could have had with John had it not been for Bill. 

“I told you, I was jealous of you. You were his boyfriend.......are......his boyfriend.....and....maybe.....that's what I wanted to be........and can you blame me! I mean.....come on.....you've seen the guy. He's gorgeous!”

Sherlock wants to blame Bill. Desperately so. Wants to blame him, sentence him and dole out punishment. But there's also a part of him that understands. That knows what it's like to be around John. To be in love with John. He comes to the conclusion that, if put in the same situation......he himself might have acted pretty similarly. 

“You must be something really special, Sherlock Holmes”, Bill let's out another sad laugh, “because he never even looked at me.....doesn't look at anyone. He only has eyes for you and you're not even here!.........so.....in conclusion........I just want to say I'm sorry......for that.....trying to steal your man......”

For a moment it sounds like Bill wants to say something else but no more words follow. Apparently he is done talking. Waiting for Sherlock to reply. See if he'll curse at him and hang up the phone. If he'll threaten to tell John what Bill has done. Go to his superiors and get him punished for.....oh....he'll think of something.

“I forgive you”, Sherlock says, because a part of him truly does understand. 

Bill let's out a relieved sigh. 

“Thank you”, he says, “I like John. I want him to be happy and from what I've been able to tell over these last couple of months....that's with you....so......”

“Thank you”, Sherlock says. He feels silly for echoing Bill's words but it's the only thing he can think of to say that truly covers everything he's feeling now. 

“And I promise”, Bill continues. His tone of voice much lighter now that he has cleared his conscious, “if you call again and he is here I will get him for you immediately.........you know......if you call this Thursday around 5pm you should be able to catch him.”

“Thank you”, Sherlock says again. 

“You're welcome, Sherlock.”

The conversation seems to have reached its natural end as they are both silent for a while. Neither of them sure how to continue. Eventually it is once again Bill who picks up the thread: 

“Is there anything you want me to say to him........from you?”

Sherlock thinks this over for a while.  
“Just tell him”, he says, “just tell him.....I miss him.”

“I will, but I think he already knows.  
Goodbye, Sherlock.”

“Goodbye, Bill.”

Sherlock hangs up first. Leaving Bill to listen to the monotone beep that tells him the line has been disconnected. 

Sherlock smiles softly to himself. 

It's three more days until Thursday. That doesn't seem that long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just popped up in my head and I thought: "might as well write it down."
> 
> Thank you to literally anyone who took the time to read it.

**Author's Note:**

> There is quite a time skip between this story and my latest entry in this series. I am planning to write the stories that go in between, but I have no idea when....  
> The idea for this story popped into my head after I had three songs pop up in order on my random playlist.  
> This story is based on these three songs: 
> 
> \- Northbound - Grace Petrie. (It has the lovely lyric "I tell you every time we talk: If I could get to you, I'd walk" in it.)  
> \- Come Down - Noah Kahan.  
> \- Duurt te lang - Davina Michelle (This is a Dutch song by a Dutch singer about a couple who are stuck in a destructive relationship because they keep on making the same mistakes. It's gorgeous.)


End file.
